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by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Shamelessly self-indulgent, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His breath was coming in little pants and gasps now. He felt sort of dizzy, but he tried to relax as her hands roamed over his distended stomach.</p>
<p>“How does it feel?” she whispered, her voice a little breathy and strange.</p>
<p>“It’s—it feels—” Eren panted, groping for words. His stomach groaned loudly, as if in protest. “God, I feel so full. I really feel like I’ll pop if I eat one more bite, but...”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“It feels amazing. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. My belly feels so heavy and tight. I don’t want to stop.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	More

**Author's Note:**

> this is... ridiculously long and ridiculously self-indulgent. basically, it’s the attack on titan stuffing fic I kept hoping someone would write, and then finally wrote myself when I realized nobody else was going to do it. anyway, I hope you enjoy!

 “Ready for more?” Mikasa asked, as Eren wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Absolutely,” Eren said immediately. “What’s next?”

“You’ll see.” She smiled the small, secret smile reserved only for him and went to get another plate from the kitchen.

Eren leaned back against the couch cushions while he waited, running his hands absently over his stomach, which was just starting to swell. Empty plates and bowls were stacked on the coffee table as evidence.

His stomach was plenty full, and on a normal day, he would’ve stopped eating a while ago—but this wasn’t a normal day. They’d been planning this stuffing for two weeks. It was going to be their most ambitious yet.

Eren had chosen jeans and a button-up shirt, both a little too small for him, specifically for this occasion. Looser clothing would’ve been more comfortable for something like this, but he wasn’t looking for comfort. Even if she’d never admitted it aloud, Eren knew that Mikasa loved watching him grow bigger and bigger, until his clothes were straining to hold him. And, truth be told, Eren himself got more than a small thrill when he started to feel his clothes getting tighter from all the food Mikasa stuffed into him.

And there would be a lot of food—huge, extravagant amounts of food. He was certain of that, even though Mikasa hadn’t let him in the kitchen all day while she prepared the feast. Mikasa did nothing by half.

He’d done his own preparation, too: Eren had been fasting since yesterday, forgoing all meals and drinking only enough water to keep him hydrated. Mikasa wanted him empty and aching with hunger by the time they started. When he sat down to eat more than an hour ago, he’d been eager to begin.

Soon, Mikasa returned to the living room bearing a huge plate, heaping with a veritable mountain of mashed potatoes, swimming in gravy. She set the plate down in front of him and handed him a large spoon.

At the first bite, Eren moaned. “This is amazing, Mikasa,” he said, around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. The potatoes were smooth and the gravy was incredibly rich. “Really delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she said modestly, hands clasped behind her back, but he could see she was hiding a smile. There were few things she enjoyed more than hearing him praise her cooking.

He worked through the mountain of mashed potatoes, one bite at a time. It wasn’t long before he’d made significant progress—and it wasn’t long before he noticed his belly was starting to stretch to accommodate all the food. He was starting to feel warm and heavy.

By the time he’d scraped the last spoonful from the plate, his pants were uncomfortably tight, the waistband digging into his stomach. He would’ve loved to undo the button, but he knew he’d catch hell from Mikasa if he did so without her approval. This stuffing wasn’t just about him, he reminded himself. It was for her, too. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found someone so compatible, someone not just willing but _eager_ to stuff him into a genuine food coma.

Mikasa slipped into the kitchen again, this time returning with two large plates of spaghetti, drowning in meat sauce, easily enough to feed four people. She set the plates in front of him like a challenge—one that he accepted immediately.

By the time Eren polished off the second plate, he was breathing harder, and the fullness in his belly was starting to get uncomfortable. His stomach gurgled, a long loud sound that made him blush.

“I think it’s time to move to the bedroom,” Mikasa purred, moving the empty plates aside, and Eren shivered in anticipation.

This was something she liked, too: watching him haul himself from the couch to their bedroom, his movements heavy and slow, knowing that she’d made him this way. That part usually came at the end of the meal, when he lay down to sleep off what he’d eaten while Mikasa rubbed his belly.

Tonight, though, it was more like halftime. He was only moving into the bedroom now because both of them doubted he’d be able to walk by the time they were finished.

“Oof,” Eren huffed as he pushed himself up off the couch, feeling his belly sink lower as he straightened. He wobbled for a moment, amazed at the warmth and weight of the food packed inside him.

Eren cradled his stomach with both hands as he turned toward the bedroom. He hadn’t just grown outward, but sideways, too. His shirt was getting tighter. The firm, round bulge of his stomach made him look—well, more than a little pregnant.

But if the gleam in Mikasa’s eyes was anything to go by, she thought he looked pretty good like this.

Grunting, Eren slowly waddled across the apartment, arms wrapped around his groaning stomach. He felt damnably off-balance like this, as if his center of gravity had shifted, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good, too. His belly swayed with every step.

Mikasa opened the bedroom door for him and let him walk in ahead of her. Eren sat heavily on the edge of the bed, then struggled to scoot backwards, still holding his stomach with one hand. Finally, he leaned back against the headboard and tried to settle himself.

“Mikasa,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “My pants...”

She looked from his face to his belly to his jeans. After a moment’s consideration, she nodded her head once, reached down and unbuttoned his pants. Eren sighed with relief at the extra room. His belly was heavy enough that it pushed his zipper down all the way.

“Do you want them off?” Mikasa asked, tilting her head.

“Yes, please,” Eren said immediately. “You know it’s easier once they’re off.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but she must’ve agreed, because she climbed onto the bed and started to tug his too-tight jeans off. Eren didn’t move to assist; Mikasa really got off on being in charge of these stuffings, and he knew she took special pleasure in undressing him.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Mikasa commented, when she’d tossed his jeans aside.

Eren followed her gaze and felt a hot flush start to climb his neck when he realized she was eyeing his erection—very obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. Still, he tried not to let his embarrassment show in his expression.

“Like you’re not wet from watching me stuff my face,” he said casually, and was instantly rewarded by her crimson blush.

“I’m going to get the next plates,” said Mikasa, stiffly, and hurried out of the bedroom.

Eren laughed. While she was away, he took a minute to play with his swollen belly, petting and prodding it. He knew he was more than full, but he felt plenty of give in his stomach—perfect, since they still had a long way to go.

Soon, Mikasa returned with an armload of dishes: what looked like an entire sliced chicken, a huge bowl of tomato soup, and a tray holding two long loaves of French bread, already sliced, perfectly toasted and buttered. She lined the plates up on the end of the bed and perched beside him.

“This smells amazing,” Eren said eagerly, as she passed him the bowl.

He didn’t even bother with a spoon, just lifted it to his mouth and began to gulp it down. The soup was thick and creamy, coating the inside of his mouth and his throat as it slid down into his belly. He loved the heat of it inside him, and he heard himself moan as he drank.

Mikasa was ready when he finished, quickly swapping him the empty bowl for a plate of chicken. He ate with his hands, pausing occasionally to lick and suck the grease from his fingers, always taking his time when he did so, just to give Mikasa a little something extra to look at.

“This is fantastic, Mikasa,” he told her, with great enthusiasm. “I think this is the best chicken you’ve ever made. Did you do something different?”

“I tried a different spice rub,” she said seriously.

The word _rub_ made him long to feel her hands on his swollen stomach. His shirt was getting noticeably tighter, the fabric starting to stretch and his belly curving nicely underneath. But he knew Mikasa wouldn’t give him what he wanted until she’d determined that he was big enough to deserve it.

“How about that bread?” Eren asked.

Mikasa handed him the first slice. He put it away easily, and soon finished the first loaf—but as he started in on the second loaf, he noticed his pace slowing considerably. The bread was taking up a lot of space inside him, and he was really starting to feel it now. His stomach felt very tight, grumbling and creaking in complaint with every mouthful of bread he swallowed.

He managed to eat half of the second loaf, each slice going down slower than the one before, when something changed.

This time, when he swallowed, it hurt: a sharp pain shooting across his belly. He grimaced, but took another bite, and then another, but the pain only got worse, like his stomach was punishing him for stretching it so hugely. When Mikasa reached for the bread again, he shook his head.

“I think I need to tap out,” Eren panted.

“Not yet,” Mikasa told him. “We’re almost done with this course. You’ll feel better once you’ve finished it.”

Eren wrapped his arms around his belly protectively. “Mikasa,” he groaned. “I can’t. If I eat any more, I’m seriously gonna burst.”

“You won’t,” she said sternly, grabbing another piece of bread. “You just need to push through.”

He raised his arms. “Wait, Mikasa—”

Before he could finish, she crammed the entire slice of bread into his open mouth, then forced his mouth shut and held one hand over it. “Chew.”

In response, Eren made several muffled noises of protest. Mikasa narrowed her eyes.

“Stop trying to talk or you’ll choke,” she warned. “Chew, Eren.”

Eren glared, but he saw no way around it, so he chewed the bread, slowly and deliberately.

“Now swallow,” Mikasa commanded.

It was an effort, but somehow, he managed it. Still, when the bread slid down his throat and into his already overfull stomach, he felt a sharp spasm of pain. Eren moaned, clutching his belly.

“Mikasa,” he whined. “It _hurts_.”

“It always hurts when you get this full,” Mikasa said crisply. “You just have to stretch your stomach out a little more and it’ll pass. Here, let me help you.”

Eren groaned plaintively, but he let her slide her hands under him to help him turn onto his side. It was a slow, awkward process—his overfull belly railing against him all the while—and he was panting by the time he’d settled onto his side, but he did feel a small measure of relief. The pressure was less intense while he was lying down.

“We talked about this, Eren,” Mikasa reminded him, as he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position. “You said you wanted to eat until you absolutely couldn’t take any more. You said you wanted me to feed you until you’re so big and heavy you can’t even move.” She placed her hands on his belly, pressing against his taut skin just enough to make him moan. “We’re not there yet, are we?”

Eren whimpered as the pressure of her hands. Of course he remembered what they’d talked about. Just hearing her repeat their plan made him feel flushed, made the weight and tightness of his belly somehow more exciting. A truly colossal stuffing had seemed like such a great idea in the beginning; he hadn’t imagined it would be this difficult to achieve.

He still had so much farther to go, so much more to eat. He wasn’t sure he could do it without splitting wide open.

But he knew Mikasa wouldn’t give up until he had eaten everything she’d prepared—and he also knew that he wouldn’t get a proper rubdown from her until he was well and truly finished. In Mikasa’s book, belly rubs had to be earned.

Besides, Mikasa knew what she was doing. She always did. More than that, she always seemed to know his limitations better than he knew them himself.

“All right,” he groused finally. “I’m no quitter. We can try a little more.”

Mikasa didn’t smile, not quite, but her eyes gleamed, and he knew he’d pleased her.

“On your back,” she instructed.

This time, she didn’t help him shift, so he knew she was also giving herself a little show. It took some doing, and a great deal of huffing and grunting, but he managed to roll over onto his back.

Lying prone like this, his belly loomed huge over him, so big he couldn’t see his feet. It was heavy, weighing him down and making it hard to breathe—but damn if it didn’t feel good, too, so warm and satisfying. He probably looked like a beached whale by now.

Even so, he wondered how much bigger he could get, and felt another flutter of excitement, of heat.

Once he was settled, Mikasa began to massage his belly in earnest. Eren closed his eyes, sighing blissfully as she worked. God, she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. It was as if she were delicately rearranging the contents of his stomach into a more comfortable configuration. She rubbed and kneaded for what like a long time. All the while, he felt himself growing harder in his underwear.

“There,” Mikasa whispered at last. “That feels better, doesn’t?”

“So much better,” he panted.

“Don’t I always take care of you?” she asked, still petting him.

In response, he just moaned.

She let out a soft breath. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Sit up.”

“Jeez, Mikasa,” Eren complained. He tried to prop himself up onto his elbows, but when he moved to sit up, his belly was in the way. “I don’t think I _can_.”

That must’ve been the right thing to say, because the next thing he knew, she came up beside him and was helping him to maneuver himself into a sitting position. She even put a pillow behind his back when he leaned back against the headboard.

“You must be thirsty by now.” Mikasa picked up a big bottle of water from the nightstand and unscrewed the cap. “Have some water.”

Eren started to reach for the bottle, but she shook her head.

“Let me,” she said, lifting the bottle to his lips.

Eren didn’t fight, just let her tip the bottle so he could drink. The first few mouthfuls were sweet and refreshing; he hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was.

Mikasa held the bottle firmly in place, never giving him a rest, so he was forced to drink and drink. Eren looked to her with wide eyes, but her expression was calm, and he understood what she was doing. She was asking him to trust her, to trust that she knew his limits, to trust that she would take care of him like she always did.

And he did trust her, more than anyone, so he closed his eyes and focused only on swallowing—and the way he felt his belly swell outward with each and every gulp of water. He groaned throatily, loving that stretch, even though it ached.

Finally, the bottle was empty, and Mikasa set it aside.

Eren shifted, and his belly sloshed. He could feel the water moving around inside him. He hadn’t even realized there was enough room left for the contents of his stomach to move at all. “Oh, god,” he groaned, reaching to hold his stomach.

Mikasa grabbed his wrists. “No,” she said softly. “That’s for me to do.”

His breath was coming in little pants and gasps now. He felt sort of dizzy, but he tried to relax as her hands roamed over his distended stomach.

“How does it feel?” she whispered, her voice a little breathy and strange.

“It’s—it feels—” Eren panted, groping for words. His stomach groaned loudly, as if in protest. “God, I feel so full. I really feel like I’ll pop if I eat one more bite, but...”

“Yes?”

“It feels amazing. It hurts, but it’s a _good_ hurt. My belly feels so heavy and tight. I don’t want to stop.”

“Eren—” His name came out of her mouth like a gasp, almost involuntary. Her face was flushed pink. “That’s good, Eren. That’s so good. You’ll keep eating for me?”

“I will,” he moaned.

“Then I’ll get the next course.” Her voice was a little unsteady. In a moment, she’d disappeared into the kitchen.

He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, and spread his legs to give his belly more room. The weight of all that food inside him made his belly sink low, into the space between his parted thighs. The bottom of his belly didn’t quite touch the mattress yet, but he had a feeling that if he stuffed himself much more, it would. Just the thought of it made him shiver in anticipation.

Then, while Mikasa was still out of the room, Eren took a moment to examine his belly. His skin was getting very tight, and there wasn’t nearly as much give as there had been the last time he checked himself. A strange little flutter of excitement went through him.

This time, when Mikasa returned, it was with a large pan of macaroni and cheese, bubbling hot, coated with a layer of golden breadcrumbs. Just the smell of it made Eren’s mouth water, despite the way his belly churned and complained. Gamely, he accepted a spoon from Mikasa and started to dig in.

The pasta was so good that he found himself swallowing almost mindlessly, mouthful after mouthful sliding down his throat, forgetting how overfull he already was.

Eren jumped—at least, he jumped as much as his heavy body would allow—when the first button popped. He looked down at himself in surprise. Sure enough, the white fabric of his shirt was pulled skin-tight across his belly, the gaps between the buttons revealing taut brown flesh.

Mikasa was breathing harder now, he noticed with a hint of smugness, and her eyes had gone dark with what he recognized as desire. He loved that he could do this to her, that feeding him got her just as hot and bothered as being fed got him.

The shirt was riding up, pushed upward by his stomach’s growth, and he bit down on a groan as Mikasa tugged the shirt down. It was so tight that she couldn’t pull it all the way down. A wide strip of his belly remained exposed.

“You’re getting big, Eren,” she said approvingly. “But you can get bigger for me, can’t you? You’ve got more room.”

“Mikasa...” Her name was a low moan.

She hummed and lowered her head to nuzzle his belly, dragging her lips over the swell, pausing to tongue at the exposed flesh between buttons. Her mouth was hot and wet against his tight, tender skin, and he was soon panting.

“I want you bigger than this,” she said, and began to stroke the sides of his belly, just a light pressure, the promise of _more_ in every touch. “Can you do it?”

Eren whined, helpless against her ministrations. He was harder than ever, his cock stiff and aching. “I want to get bigger for you,” he groaned at last. “I want to get so big. Oh, god, _Mikasa_ —”

“Then I’ll help you do it,” she promised, her voice low. She pressed a light kiss to the top of his belly, then climbed off the bed and slipped into the hall.

Eren lay limp and panting while she fetched the next course. His cock throbbed, and his belly ached, and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take until he finally exploded, one way or another.

Still, when Mikasa returned, he was determined to keep eating. If she thought he could put the rest of the food away, then he could. It was that simple.

“Last course, Eren,” she said sweetly, her dark eyes glittering with something like mischief. She carried a massive tray of chocolate fudge brownies that looked fresh from the oven. “Dessert.”

Eren lifted the first brownie to his mouth with exaggerated confidence, and a pleased groan escaped him as it passed his lips. The brownie was incredibly rich and moist; he grabbed the second without hesitation. It was so good that he doubted he’d need much encouragement to polish off the tray.

As he worked through the brownies, Mikasa watched him with dark, glittering eyes.

“That’s it,” she murmured, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his belly as he chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed. “That’s it. You’re doing so well, Eren. You look so good like this.”

Another button popped, and Eren gave a moan that was half agony, half ecstasy. His belly felt so full and heavy that he could scarcely believe he hadn’t burst. Each breath was a shallow pant, since his stomach had filled much of the space his lungs usually enjoyed. He felt absolutely huge—and when he looked down at himself, god, he _looked_ huge, too. If they kept this up, his shirt wouldn’t last much longer; the buttons were obviously struggling to contain him.

He looked about ten months pregnant, wide and round and firm. He knew without a doubt that he had never been bigger than this.

“I’m... I’m gonna burst,” he panted, letting his head loll to one side. His breaths were shallow, but his belly heaved with each one.

“No, you won’t,” she told him, as calm as ever.

With agonizing slowness, Mikasa undid the rest of the buttons, one by one. When the last one went, his belly surged outward even further, finally freed. Eren gave a sigh of relief. Finally. He could breathe a little easier now.

But Mikasa was already lifting another brownie toward his mouth, and he opened up obediently, before she had to ask. She seemed to like that, because her mouth curved into a small smile as he ate out of her hand.

Eren gasped as another bolt of pain lanced through his stomach. One of his hands came up automatically to clutch his belly. His skin felt tight and hot, stretched to the limit. Even the pressure of his own hand hurt, and he was sweating from the effort of eating all this food and holding it inside.

He tried to shift, but the pain just got worse. He felt like he might rupture if he swallowed another bite, and he whimpered in discomfort and pain.

But only half the tray of brownies was left. Just a few more brownies, and then he was finished. Surely he could fit them inside his belly, overfull and straining though it was.

“Do you want me to rub while you eat?” Mikasa asked quietly.

“I think that’s the only way I’ll be able to finish,” Eren said, with a huffing laugh. He grimaced at the way it jolted his belly. “Oh, dammit, _ow._ ”

“All right, then.” A determined expression settled on Mikasa’s face. With one hand, she began to knead his belly, gentle but firm. With the other, she lifted another brownie and slid it into his open, waiting, watering mouth.

He chewed and she rubbed. He chewed and she rubbed. It went on and on, slowly, until Eren was moaning with pleasure as much as discomfort. He was so full, his belly packed so tightly that he could barely breathe, but it felt _good_ , too, better than he would’ve imagined, better than it had ever felt before.

“You’re so close,” Mikasa murmured, dipping her head to press a kiss to the highest point on his belly. There was no give anymore, only tight, unyielding flesh. “I know you can finish.”

She offered him another brownie, and he accepted it. He could feel his stomach expand another centimeter with every swallow. As he ate, the pain morphed into something more like pleasure, as if he’d somehow managed to push through it and was now receiving a reward for his determination.

“Last one,” Mikasa said. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the final brownie.

Eren moaned as she fed him, his mouth watering despite how achingly, hugely full he was. He chewed slowly and swallowed with effort, hyper-aware of the brownie as it moved down his throat and into his straining belly. For a moment, he feared another stab of pain—but all he felt was warm, heavy satisfaction.

“Whaddaya know,” he murmured, reaching up to pat his belly. It was huge and hard, packed with food. He let out a slow sigh of relief. “I actually did it.”

“You actually did it,” Mikasa echoed, her voice weirdly strangled. “Oh, _Eren_...”

When he looked up at her, he saw how flushed she was, how her pupils were blown wide as she stared at his belly. He was huge, bigger than he’d ever imagined he could get. This round and wide, he looked overdue with triplets.

“I feel amazing now,” he told her, knowing just what to say to really get her going. He gave a soft groan. “You stuffed me so tight, Mikasa.”

“Eren,” she breathed again, stroking his massive stomach with gentle hands. She just rubbed him for a while, soothingly. When she finally lowered her head to tongue at his navel, a loud, embarrassing moan escaped him.

After that, he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of her mouth—hot and eager and adoring—all over his distended belly. The slick, wet sounds of her kissing him made his whole body burn hot.

Even the lightest press of her lips made him moan; his skin was stretched impossibly tight and was incredibly sensitive. When she lingered on a spot just south of his navel, sucking and licking there, he was reduced to low, needy whimpers.

“Eren, this is better than I could’ve imagined,” Mikasa whispered, between kisses. “I love your belly. You’re so huge. I want you like this all the time—heavy and full for me.”

“I want that, too,” he panted, lifting one hand to card his fingers through her soft black hair. “This feels incredible. So big I can’t even move...”

And he couldn’t, he realized, with a slow sort of start. His stomach was so large and unwieldy that he doubted he could get up without help. He certainly wouldn’t be able to walk. He was effectively pinned in place, weighed down by his own belly—and as all the food settled inside him, he knew he would swell even more.

That realization made him flush even hotter.

“Here,” Mikasa murmured, as if she could read his mind. “Let me help you.”

Together, they rolled him onto his side. Even with her hands supporting him, it was a slow, ungainly process, but once he was settled, it was a relief. The new position took some of the pressure off his tight, aching belly and made it easier to breathe.

For a while, he lay motionless, just breathing softly as his belly churned and groaned. He felt warm and heavy and hazy, melting with satisfaction. All that food was inside him—all of it.

“Oh, god,” Eren breathed, sliding one hand over the curve of his belly. His skin was stretched drum-tight, and he screwed his eyes shut in pleasure as he prodded himself with his fingers. “I’m so _full_ , Mikasa. I’ve never been this full in my _life_.”

“A new record.” He could hear the smile in her voice. The bed dipped a little as she perched beside him, and then her hands were rubbing slow circles over his swollen belly. “It’s impressive. But I think we can break it.”

Eren blinked one eye open. “Don’t tell me you’re already thinking about next time.”

Mikasa’s eyes gleamed. “You did so well for me, Eren,” she said, still stroking his belly. “But I’m sure you can get bigger. I’m sure you can take more.” She splayed her fingers over his tight stomach. “Don’t you want that?”

He arched into her touch as much as he could, imagining the possibilities. “God, yes,” he said. “I want more.”

**Author's Note:**

> see, I told you it was long and self-indulgent. if you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> also, I want to write more stuffing fics, but I’m kind of stuck on ideas, so please let me know via comment or message if you have any prompts or scenarios you’d like to see. the more detail, the better. (your prompt doesn’t have to involve this pairing, but you should probably know that I won’t write eren/levi, mikasa/levi or levi/hanji. just not my thing)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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